


What Comes Next?

by shanfawn16



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-18
Updated: 2007-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-01 00:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10176638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanfawn16/pseuds/shanfawn16
Summary: Now that the final battle is over, what's next for our intrepid hero? Harry gets some help from an unexpected source.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**But what comes next?**

_A/N#1: I forgot to post this first chapter to the story... sorry! Didn't mean to confuse anyone! So, here it is!_

_A/N#2: This fanfic is dedicated to the talented jadzialove, who wrote the first piece of slash I ever read. She’s become a wonderful resource for me, and I owe all my slash fantasies to her stories! Many thanks to the wonderful knightmare for the beta job! Any and all mistakes belong solely to me._

 

**Prologue**

When Harry awoke, it was to complete chaos. People were rushing about, voices shouting orders, questions, and answers back and forth. He tried to lift his head to determine where he was and what was happening, but it felt heavy, and he had a sharp pain stabbing its way through his forehead. Grimacing with the effort, he managed to raise himself up onto his arms and take a look around. He quickly discovered that this was a rather large mistake.

“Harry! Hurry, he’s awake,” he heard bellowed from somewhere nearby. Before he could turn to look and see who the voice was coming from, he was roughly shoved back down and a lit wand was thrust into his face while a shadowy person from behind the light seemed to be examining his eyes.

“How do you feel, Harry?” the voice asked.

“Like a Hippogriff trampled me,” Harry answered truthfully. “What’s happening?” he asked.

“Tell me what you can remember,” the voice prodded.

Harry closed his eyes and attempted to think, which was difficult with the harsh pain in his head. Breathing deeply to try and center himself, he used his Occlumency skills to tune out the turmoil around him. He slowly let his thoughts travel back to remember what had occurred to land him, once again it would seem, in the care of a mediwitch. In a blinding flash, memories began flooding back into his mind.

“The battle with Voldemort,” he shouted, jerking upright and opening his eyes. He barely noticed the flinching and the loud gasps of all the people surrounding him. “I was fighting him, and… I stabbed him with Gryffindor’s sword. But that’s all I remember. Did it work? Is he dead?”

He frantically looked around, trying to find a familiar face, but this was difficult as he had somehow, once again, lost his glasses. As if on cue, he felt someone slide his glasses into his hand and soon the world was brought back into focus.

He looked around again and saw that he was surrounded not only by Weasleys, as was often the case, but by a number of mediwitches and wizards in the standard green uniforms of St. Mungo’s. 

“Well? Will someone please tell me what happened already?” he pleaded.

“You did it, mate,” came a voice from his left. Turning quickly, he saw the dirtied, slightly bruised, and bloodied face of his best friend Ron, who was clutching Hermione’s hand fiercely. “I knew you would do it, but you gave us a right scare, you did.”

Harry immediately slumped back down on the cot, a feeling of immense relief flooding his entire body. “So, what did I manage to do to wind up here, then?” he asked.

Hermione reached over and grabbed his hand. “When you stabbed Voldemort, you were hit with an enormous backlash of power, Harry. There was this amazing light – we could see it from across the grounds. The last of his magic was unleashed and you were directly hit by it. We Portkeyed you straight to St. Mungo’s, but we were so scared! You were barely alive, Harry,” she said, emotion choking her words.

“Well, other than a really nasty headache, I feel okay now.” Harry tried to sound reassuring. He turned to the mediwitch that was still examining him. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Mr. Potter, you are indeed a miracle,” she answered, sounding quite awed at being in his presence. “We were none too convinced that you would pull through when you first arrived. The auralics we performed were very concerning. You were hit with so much raw magic that you should have been killed on the spot. Frankly, I’m quite amazed that you’ve awoken so soon. I’ve just performed another auralic on you, and I can find no evidence of any lasting magical injury to you.”

Harry heard Mrs. Weasley let out a relieved sob somewhere to his right, and Hermione squeezed his hand even tighter. “Right then,” he said. “When can I get out of here?” he asked and was answered by a chorus of amused chuckles.

“Yup,” he heard Fred say, “he’ll be fine.”

“Never saw a hex or an evil dark wizard who could keep our boy down for long,” George remarked, his voice sounding strangely tight. Harry turned to look at him, but he had already moved away and was speaking with one of the other mediwizards.

“Is everyone else okay?” Harry asked, suddenly very concerned about the others who had gone into battle to help him. One look at their faces told him that not everyone had been as fortunate as he had.

Hermione buried her face against Ron’s chest and he once again heard Mrs. Weasley let out a soft sob. Mr. Weasley came and sat on Harry’s cot with a sad but determined look on his face.

“Harry, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we did have some casualties. Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to hear about this right now?” he asked.

“I have to know, Mr. Weasley. Please tell me.”

“Tonks and Remus were both injured badly, but we’ve been assured that they’ll both pull through. They’re here at St. Mungo’s as well, and I’m sure you can see them soon,” he added. “Filius Flitwick and Mundungus Fletcher both had minor injuries and have already been released.” He paused to take a deep breath, and Harry was sure that what he would hear next would be terrible.

“Who was killed, Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked, closing his eyes to try to steel himself for the news.

“Minerva, Hagrid, Neville, and Snape,” he listed, his voice sounding heavy and constricted. Harry winced with every name mentioned, each one feeling like a physical blow against his body. He felt Hermione take his hand once again. 

“It’s not your fault, Harry,” she assured him. “They all fought bravely to try and protect the school for as long as possible. You should have seen Neville,” she said with a sob. “He was so brave. He saved Ron’s life. He pushed him out of the way and was hit with a curse. He killed Bellatrix, Harry,” she said. 

Harry nodded his head, still keeping his eyes closed. He knew that it wasn’t his fault, but he felt such an enormous loss at the thought of never seeing any of them again. Well, he wouldn’t really miss Snape, but he was so grateful to the man for everything he had done in helping to find and destroy the Horcruxes. He would never have been able to fight and kill Voldemort without his help.

Finally, he opened his eyes again and looked around at the faces of his family. He was so thankful to have them in his life and he knew that, no matter what would happen next, that they would stand beside him. At the urging of the mediwitch, they all finally took their leave of Harry, but not without a lot of hugging and assurances that they would be back as soon as they were allowed. 

With a few more tests and spells, the mediwitch ordered him to get some rest and told him that if all went well, he would be released the next morning. With a heavy sigh, he turned on his side and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter One

****

But What Comes Next?

_A/N: Sorry for the confusion... I forgot to add the prologue. It has now been updated. Go back and read it if you haven't! Thanks again to the brilliant knightmare for her beta skills. Reviews are like chocolate! Always loved and appreciated!_

**Chapter One**

On the morning he was released from St. Mungo’s, Harry was very quietly whisked away by Portkey to the Burrow, before word of his release could be leaked to the press. When he arrived, he found Mad Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt waiting for him and he quickly excused himself to speak with them, much to Mrs. Weasley’s ire. Once they were ensconced in the sitting room with a strong privacy spell cast around them (thanks of course, to Moody), Harry finally allowed himself to ask what had been on his mind since he awoke the previous day.

“So, what’s next?” he asked.

Moody looked at him with approval before answering, “Well, lad, there are still quite a few Death Eaters unaccounted for that need rounding up –”

“But that’s not for you to worry about,” Kingsley interrupted. Moody glared at him, but Kingsley seemed not to care, or really to notice. “We would prefer –” and then he was interrupted by a rather disgruntled growl from Moody, to whom he cast his own death glare. “We would prefer, Harry, that you keep a very low profile for awhile.”

“No offence,” Harry said with an irritated grimace, “but even when I try to keep a low profile, it rarely works out for me.” Kingsley nodded solemnly.

“I understand how you feel, Harry, but this is no game. Now that you’ve taken out their leader, the Death Eaters that are still out there would like nothing more than to get their hands on you and avenge him. You know that under the best of circumstances half the Death Eaters out there were completely insane and the remaining ones were power-hungry sadists. There’s going to be a power struggle amongst those that are left and you’d be a hefty prize for those that want to pick up the reins and lead.” Harry thought about this statement for a moment and realized that it made a lot of sense. 

“Shouldn’t I be out there with the rest of the Order trying to take out the last of these bastards?” Harry asked, feeling an icy rage at the thought of them continuing to plot and plan against him.

Moody sat up straighter for a moment and said, “I told you he’d feel that way, Shacklebolt.”

Kingsley again levelled an irritated glare towards the old Auror before continuing. “Harry, you’ve done your part. You’ve risked your life and walked away from death more times than I can count. Lie low, keep your nose clean, and figure out what it is you want to do with the rest of your life. We’ll handle the rest.”

Moody and Kingsley took their leave and he found himself once again surrounded by Weasleys, sitting at the kitchen table and pretending to enjoy a hot cup of tea. It was not real enjoyment, as his head was beginning to ache again due to the noise level and also due to the fact that he could have disappeared entirely from the discussion/argument that was taking place around him; he didn’t think anyone would have even noticed. 

For the past hour, his adoptive family had been arguing amongst themselves as to what the best course of action for Harry’s future would be. After the first ten minutes, Harry gave up trying to give any input. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, other than Ron, who just sat quietly eating muffins and throwing Harry an occasional sympathetic glance.

The number of suggestions tossed out around the table was quite staggering. Mrs. Weasley suggested that he immediately take up residence at the Burrow. Mr. Weasley felt that it would be best to return to Hogwarts to finish his schooling once it reopened. Charlie thought the best idea would be for him to take some time for himself and travel. Bill knew of several job opportunities available through Gringotts. Fred and George very helpfully suggested that he take on a permanent Glamour charm, change his name to Tiddy Winkerbean and move to Canada to breed Nargles for the upcoming holiday season.

Finally, Harry was unable to take it anymore and he stood up abruptly, causing the others to cease arguing and look at him. He paused for a moment (almost for dramatic effect, really), and then took a deep breath before speaking.

“I appreciate everything you all have done for me, of course, but I really think it would be best if perhaps you asked me what I might like to do now.” He looked around the table and was satisfied to see that at least some of those gathered around it looked a bit embarrassed. Of course, it took more than just a slight chastisement to embarrass the twins, but that was to be expected.

“I’ve thought about it and I’ve decided that I’m going back to live at Grimmauld Place,” he said and waited for the arguments to begin.

“But Harry, dear,” Mrs. Weasley started, “I really don’t think you should be off on your own like that.”

“Thanks for your concern, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, trying not to sound too exasperated. “But it’s not like I’ll be a hermit out there. It’s still the Headquarters for the Order and people will be in and out of there all the time. There’s still a lot of work to be done before this whole mess is over with and I definitely won’t be lonely. Besides, I know you’d never let me go too long without checking up to make sure I’m eating properly.” He tried to flash her a grateful smile, but he was afraid it might have come across as a grimace. 

Mr. Weasley thankfully intervened, asking, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Listen, it’ll really help all of us. It won’t be too much longer before the press realizes that I’m not at hospital anymore and they’re going to come looking for me. This is the first place they’ll come,” he paused and looked to Mr. Weasley before continuing. “I think that when they do, I need to be hidden away at Grimmauld Place. You can make a statement for me saying that I’m healthy and well, but that I’ve gone off to an undisclosed location for an undisclosed amount of time for a much-needed holiday. The Fidelius on Headquarters will make sure that no one will be able to get to me and they’ll be able to determine right off that I’m not hiding here. This could be the best way to head off those vipers and keep you out of it as well.

“Besides all that, I need some time to really think about what I want to do next. I’ve never really had an opportunity to think past the end of the war. Now I’ve done what I had to do and I suddenly have my whole life stretched out in front of me. Don’t get me wrong, but as much as I love being here, the Burrow was never really designed for deep soul-searching. Too much commotion, you know?” 

“Too right,” Ron sniggered, and Harry was immediately grateful to his best mate for helping his attempt at lightening the mood.

After another few minutes of pleading from Mrs. Weasley, it seemed that everything was settled. Harry allowed himself a deep sigh of relief before Ron thankfully got him up and Floo'd with him over to number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

******************************

After tumbling out of the kitchen fireplace, Harry got up, dusted himself off, and took a look around the room. This house would never really feel like home to him, but it was the one place that he could truly call his own. Over the year and a half that he, Ron, and Hermione had searched for the remaining Horcruxes, he had stayed here whenever they were not travelling.

When he had first returned here after Sirius’ death, he had hated this house. But in time and, with a lot of work from various Order members, the house did start to feel a little friendlier. Mrs. Black’s portrait had finally been removed from the wall, the last of the dark artefacts had been expunged, and life had slowly returned to the once dreary dwelling. All of his possessions, as few as they were, were still tucked away in an upstairs bedroom, awaiting his return. Before he could think more on his situation here in Sirius’ old house, Ron came falling out of the Floo behind him.

“Harry, mate, you should be a politician,” he said, grinning widely.

“What on earth makes you say that?” he asked, laughing at the thought.

“Anyone who can handle my family like that could get anyone to do anything,” he answered.

They laughed together for a bit over the events of the morning and then journeyed upstairs to play a game of chess. Halfway through the game (which Harry was triumphantly losing), Ron brought up the subject that Harry had been dreading.

“You know, Ginny had wanted to be here when you were discharged, but she’s still in France and couldn’t get a Portkey back until tomorrow,” Ron said, not looking up from the board.

Harry grunted in response and hoped fervently that Ron would drop the conversation. Ginny was actually one of the main reasons that Harry had not wanted to stay at the Burrow. The thought of living under the same roof as her was unfathomable. Things had been so tense the last time they saw each other that Harry actually hoped that he could avoid her forever, although he knew that wouldn’t be possible.

The few weeks that they had been together as a couple were wonderful – at the time. But after they broke up, things became unbearable. He didn’t see much of her, since he had been away so often searching for the Horcruxes. But every time he saw her, it turned into a horrible row. She just couldn’t – or wouldn’t – understand why they couldn’t be together. She refused to see how much it hurt him to be away from her and would turn everything he said against him. Every one of these fights would end up with her listing the numerous other blokes that were interested in her. Each time they fought, he felt he knew her less and less. He never discussed these fights with Ron, but Ron knew that things had been tense between them. Harry knew that he had never given up the hope of his best mate and his little sister getting together. Harry’s thoughts were interrupted when Ron started speaking again. 

“She does miss you. She tried everything to get out of being sent to stay with ‘Phlegm’s’ family. But that was one battle she was never going to win. You know how Mum gets. From what I hear, she’s been bloody miserable to live with since she’s been there, too.” Harry grunted again, trying to keep his focus on the game and away from the ugly thoughts filling his head.

“Harry, what happened with you two?” Ron prodded, not picking up on Harry’s cues to drop the subject. Luckily, Harry was saved from having to answer when a voice called out to them from the kitchen.

“Ron, Harry, where are you?”

“That’s George,” Ron said, looking confused. “What in the bloody hell is he doing here?”

“We’re up here, George,” Harry called out, immensely relieved at the interruption. When George poked his head into the room, he looked amused, which was not unusual.

“Oi, Ronniekins, your girlfriend is at the Burrow and she’s anxiously awaiting your return,” he said, his trademark smirk firmly in place. 

“Shite,” Ron swore, “I forgot, I was supposed to meet her a half hour ago. I’ve got to go, Harry, but I’ll check in with you later, yeah?”

“No worries, Ron. Give Hermione a hug for me,” Harry said, feeling slightly guilty at being so glad to see him leave. He had expected George to take his leave as well and was quite surprised when he bounded into the room, taking up Ron’s spot across the chessboard.

“Losing again, are we?” George asked, as a cheeky grin settled onto his face.

“At least it keeps me humble,” he replied. It was hard to feel sorry for oneself when in the presence of a Weasley twin.

“Fancy playing a game then?”

Harry looked up in surprise. He had never played George at chess and, in fact, hadn’t ever seen him play at all. 

“You don’t want to play me,” Harry said with a shrug. “I’m complete rubbish. Ron just keeps playing me because most other people won’t let him trounce them on a regular basis.”

“You’re most definitely not rubbish at chess, Harry,” George assured him, as he reset the pieces. “I’ve seen you play and you’re actually quite good. Your problem is that the only person you ever play is Ron, and I’ve never seen anyone beat him.” George stopped for a moment and looked up at Harry. “Think he could’ve beaten Dumbledore?”

Harry laughed at the thought of Ron and Dumbledore bent over a chessboard, a bowl of lemon drops perched in a place of pride on the table. “I don’t rightly know, but I bet it would’ve been a hell of a game. All right, I’ll play, but you realize that if I actually win a game of chess, the shock might kill me.”

“Nah,” George scoffed. “But if you win two, well then, all bets are off.”

Harry chuckled at his reply and settled in to the game. George was a good chess player after all, but nowhere near Ron’s level, and the game was fairly evenly matched. It drew on for a while, but eventually Harry was victorious. He was quite proud of himself that he only did one victory lap around the table, but that could have had something to do with George casting a tripping hex on him before he could start the second lap. 

After all the flaunting and teasing was finished, they ventured downstairs where a small mountain of food awaited them. Mrs. Weasley had, of course, sent an ample amount of delicious food over with George. Harry had expected it, but was a bit overwhelmed at the quantity.

“Well,” George explained, “this would last you through tomorrow, if you were Ron. However, seeing as how you are a normal human being, you’ll probably have plenty of food for the rest of the week. Mind if I join you?”

Harry very happily invited George to stay and enjoy the bounty of food and they fell into easy conversation. He was quite surprised, since he had never spent much time with George on his own. It was very rare to ever catch one twin without the other. When he questioned him about this, George simply shrugged.

“Well, there’s not much going on this week,” he replied. “What with you freeing the world from old Moldy-Voldy and all, it seems the wizarding world decided to take a bit of a holiday. All the businesses are closed up, so I’ve got some time off from the store. Fred, of course, used this opportunity to jump on – I mean, spend some quality time with Angelina.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the visual. “It’s just so strange to see you on your own, you know?”

“Yeah, I suppose it is an odd thing to have to witness,” George said with a smirk. “But really, we haven’t been spending all that much time together lately, anyway. He’s busy doing the bulk of brainstorming new products; I’m in charge of marketing and testing. All his free time is filled with Angelina.”

“Is it strange,” Harry asked, “to suddenly be on your own like that? I mean, do you feel left out at all?”

Again, George shrugged. “It did at first, I guess, but not anymore. We both have different ideas as to what we like to get up to nowadays, and it is a bit freeing. Mostly, I just like to be able to finish my own sentences for a change.”

They both laughed and Harry suddenly realized that he no longer was feeling sorry for himself over the mess with Ginny and that he was having a really good time.

“So, what is it that you like to get up to nowadays, then?” he asked.

“As it turns out, not much,” George answered with a self-deprecating grin. “Guess I need a little more practice with being on my own, eh?”

“Well, looks like we have something in common,” Harry said with a grin. “Thanks for sticking around today after Ron left. Turns out it would’ve been a bit lonely, after all.”

“No problem, mate,” George answered with a wink. “George Weasley, misguided social director, at your service,” he said with a sweeping bow. 

They laughed some more and Harry again was surprised at the easy way they had fallen into each other’s company. After a while, they adjourned back upstairs and played a few rousing games of Exploding Snap and talked the afternoon away. They shared another meal together and, before they knew it, it was quite late. 

“Well, I guess it’s back to the Burrow for me, then,” George said with a slight grimace. 

“Why aren’t you staying at your flat?” Harry asked, suddenly not wanting the evening to end.

“One word – Angelina,” George replied. “We’ve just got the one bedroom above the store, so it’s a bit crowded these days.”

“Stay here, then,” Harry said quickly, excited at the chance to extend the company. “There’s plenty of room, really, and it’ll be grand. I’ll beat you at chess again.”

George looked at him for a moment and seemed to be considering the offer. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind me hanging about? After all, you just finished telling Mum this morning about how you needed some time alone to figure out what you want to do and all that.”

“Well, if ever there was an enterprising person who could help me find my path in life, I do believe that one of the Weasley twins would fit the bill,” he said with a grin. “Really, I’d love it if you’d kip here. Turns out that I don’t want the complete and utter silence after all.” He tried to hide the shudder that ran through him at the thought, but George noticed it anyway.

“Are you really all right, Harry?” he asked, with no trace of his usual merriment.

Harry didn’t answer immediately. He closed his eyes for a moment to try and stop the train of thoughts that wanted to run through his mind. “I’m okay,” he finally answered, hating how weak his voice sounded. He opened his eyes once he felt the steadying weight of George’s hand resting on his shoulder.

“You will be,” he said. Harry met his gaze and nodded at him, smiling appreciatively at the support. 

“Well then, I guess we’ll get you set up in Sirius’ old room. It’s next to mine and the rest of the Order usually takes one of the bedrooms on the upper floor whenever they need to stay, so it’s always free. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect,” George replied, and they settled down for the night.

***********************************

_The room was very dark, and it had a strong odour of decay. Harry tried to look around at his surroundings, but he was bound tightly against the wall and his movements were very limited. He could hear the distant screams of others seeping in through the closed door at the opposite end of the room. The longer he was chained there, the more his panic started to build. He knew he couldn’t let the fear get to him – he had to keep a straight head so that he could figure out a way to get out of this place._

_Just then, the door swung open and two masked and cloaked Death Eaters entered, dragging a third person between them. Harry couldn’t make out the identity of the person, but his heart started beating wildly when he saw the flaming red hair. He struggled against his bonds, needing to get to the captive who was now slumped on the floor, blood trickling from the back of his head._

_“Don’t worry your pretty head over that one,” a Death Eater sneered at Harry. “He’s already served his purpose.” Both Death Eaters started laughing then – a cold and cruel sound. All Harry could do was scream and fight against the chains holding him to the wall. The more he fought, the more they laughed._

_It was then that Harry heard a soft soothing voice in the back of his mind. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He couldn’t make out what it was saying, but it did start to calm him. He focused all his will on trying to make out what the voice was telling him. All he could understand was the word 'safe', but that didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t safe. No one was._

_But the voice was lulling him and he closed his eyes, wrapping all his consciousness around that word, and he swore he could feel strong arms circling him, holding him tightly. He was safe. It was at that moment that he realized that none of this was real. The room, the broken body in front of him, the laughing Death Eaters – none of it was real, he was safe. He tried to wake himself, but he felt himself slowly sinking deeper, and he wasn’t aware of anything other than the soothing voice and the strong arms surrounding him._

**********************************

Harry awoke to the faint grey light of dawn creeping in through his bedroom window. He felt sluggish, as if he couldn’t quite rid himself of the last bit of sleep. Stretching, he grabbed up his glasses and put them on before rising from the bed. That’s when he saw George, curled up in the armchair across from his bed, fast asleep.

“George,” he prodded, trying to rouse the redhead. “George, wake up. What are you doing in here?” George blinked his eyes and blurrily looked around the room, taking in his surroundings. 

“Sorry,” George said as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. “Must have been sleep walking. Horrible habit, that.”

“Don’t give me that, why are you really sleeping in my chair instead of in your bed?” Harry asked.

“All right,” he said, sighing heavily. “You were having a nightmare and I was worried, so I decided to stay here to keep an eye on you.”

Harry was mortified. It wasn’t enough that he admitted to George that he didn’t want to be alone in the house, now he was having nightmares again. He must have been pretty loud to bring George running in here and to make him so concerned. Harry could feel his face colouring with embarrassment.

“Harry, don’t worry about it. It’s not a problem. You’re bound to have a bad night now and then, and I didn’t mind hanging about to make sure that you were okay. I’m sure you would have done the same for me,” George assured him. 

“I’m so sorry, George,” Harry said, avoiding his eyes.

“It’s fine; I told you already. Do you remember anything about the nightmare?” he asked.

Harry sat down heavily on his bed and thought for a moment, trying to recall the dream. All he could recall was a feeling of panic. “Not really,” he replied. “Did I say anything in my sleep?” he asked tentatively.

“No,” George replied, looking away. “You were yelling a lot, but you weren’t making much sense. I just sat and kept talking to you, trying to wake you up. I thought you were coming around for a minute, but then you just sort of passed back out.”

Harry had a brief flash of memory about a soothing voice and being held in strong arms. He shook his head to clear it. Certainly that was just some muddled bit of nothing left over from his nightmare. There was no way George would have coddled and held him during a nightmare. He resigned himself to letting the whole mess go and suggested that they go and grab some breakfast. George quickly agreed and they made their way downstairs.

They quickly fell back into the easy camaraderie of the previous day as they tucked into the delicious muffins that Mrs. Weasley had sent. Afterwards, they quickly washed up and got dressed, settling back into the drawing room to continue their discussion on some of the problems that the twins had been having with some of the products. Harry found that he was really interested in the way that they designed and created their products and was eager to learn more about it. It wasn’t long before Harry started offering suggestions and George’s eyes lit up with excitement at them. He bounded off in search of parchment and a quill to begin recording this impromptu brainstorming session, and Harry headed back to the kitchen to grab a couple of Butterbeers. When he turned the corner, however, all thoughts of Butterbeer, George, and brainstorming quickly left his mind.

There, standing in front of the Floo, was Ginny.


	3. Chapter Two

**But What Comes Next?**

_A/N: Thanks, as always, to the fatabulous knightmare… You put up with so much!_

**Chapter Two**

It took Harry a couple of moments to get over the shock of seeing Ginny so suddenly and unexpectedly standing in his kitchen. In that time, Ginny took the opportunity to fling herself at him and she began kissing him madly, wherever she could reach. Quickly getting over his paralysis, he pried Ginny’s hands from around his neck. 

“Ginny, what are you doing here?” he questioned, feeling stunned and a little bruised from her assault.

“Ron told you I was coming home today, I know he did,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “Of course I dropped everything to rush over and see you as soon as I could; why do you seem so surprised?”

“You’re kidding, right? Were you Obliviated after the last time we saw each other?” he asked, beginning to feel like he had been slipped a Befuddlement Potion. “You hexed me across the room and screamed that you never wanted to see me again.” 

“I lost my temper then,” she said with a shrug. “I didn’t mean anything by it. But everything is different now, isn’t it?”

“How is everything different?” he asked, feeling trapped and nervous. He fervently hoped that the sweaty, sick sensation building in his stomach would stop before something truly embarrassing happened.

Ginny flashed him a predatory smile and started closing the distance between them. “Well, you defeated him, didn’t you? The war is over and now we’re free to be together.”

Harry quickly looked around, desperate for a way to escape from the room, but unfortunately, Ginny had crossed between him and the door. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for what was sure to be a very ugly scene.

“Ginny, it’s only been a couple of days. I just got out of hospital yesterday, for Merlin’s sake. And the war is not over yet. There are still a lot of people out there who want to hurt me and the people I’m close to,” Harry tried explaining, wishing there were an easier way out of this. “And even if that wasn’t the case, too much has happened between us for you to really think that we’d just pick up again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ginny demanded.

“We had a few really terrific weeks together back in school, but since then it’s been a bloody nightmare,” he exclaimed, no longer wanting to spare her feelings. All the hurt and pain she’d caused him over the past year and a half suddenly came to the forefront of his mind and he wasn’t about to let her do that to him again.

“Every time we got together, it turned into a battle of who can hurt who the fastest. I’m sick to death of you thinking you can force yourself into my life by coercion and jealousy! For fuck’s sake, Ginny, you never even tried to understand why we couldn’t be together and you made my life a living bloody hell,” he yelled.

“You’re deluded,” she screamed back at him. “I’ve spent all this time trying to make you see how much I still care about you, that I want to be with you, and this is how you react to that? Seamus said you’d behave like this,” she added.

“Throwing out the names of all the blokes who want a go at you is showing me you care? You’re completely mental! And why would you be discussing any of this with Seamus? Is he the latest bid to try and get me jealous?”

“I thought I knew you, Harry,” Ginny said. “Everything I’ve done, it was for you, can’t you see that?”

“No, I can’t see that, Ginny. I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Harry said, feeling exhausted and defeated. He slumped into a chair at the table and looked up into her face. “Do you realize that we’ve been standing here screaming at each other for ten minutes – over something that we both know isn’t ever going to happen? We’re not meant to be together, Ginny. Not now, not ever.”

“You’ve changed,” she said, sounding broken. “You used to care about me.”

Harry sighed heavily and decided he had to lay it all out on the table. “I will always care about you, Ginny. The problem is, you’ve never bothered to really care about me. I’ve just spent the past year and a half doing and seeing things that no one should have to. I was nearly killed this week and was just released from hospital – you haven’t once asked me how I am. You’ve never asked me that, Ginny. All you’ve ever cared about was how everything affected you and whether or not you could get what you wanted.”

“That’s not true,” she argued.

“Of course it is,” he answered, his anger flaring again. “When Hermione was nearly killed last year, you tried to use it as an excuse as to why we should sneak off and snog. When I refused, you tried to make me jealous by telling me how good a kisser Zacharias Smith was. When we had been away for five months, living out of a backpack, trying to find Hufflepuff’s cup, the first thing you did when we got back was try to manipulate me into sneaking you out of the Burrow. You’ve shown no concern for any of us and you resort to jealousy tactics and hexes when things don’t go your way. You’ve become a selfish, hateful cow, and right now you’re the last person that I want to be with in any way, shape or form. Now, if you will excuse me.” 

He hadn’t realized he had started shouting, but he knew he had to get away from her immediately before anything else happened. As he walked briskly out of the kitchen, he heard the Floo flare again and breathed a sigh of relief knowing that she had left. It was a short-lived relief, however, when he turned up the stairs and ran straight into George.

“Buggering hell,” he murmured, looking up into George’s red face. 

“Kitchen, now,” George said and brushed past him in the stairway. Harry’s shoulders slumped and he followed, preparing himself to be hexed thoroughly for his treatment of the youngest Weasley.

“Listen, George,” he started, “all I want to do right now is slam my head against a wall and try to forget the past fifteen minutes, okay? I promise you can beat the bloody hell out of me later, but just give me a break right now, all right?” George shot him a confused glance before grabbing two Butterbeers and plopping one down in front of Harry.

“Why do you think I’m going to beat the hell out of you?” he asked simply, taking a pull off his bottle.

Now Harry was really confused. “Obviously you heard that lovely exchange between me and Ginny. I just assumed you were going to take me to task for treating her so badly.”

“You’re kidding, right?” George asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Harry, I wanted to apologize to you for the way she’s been treating you. She’s always been spoiled in our family, but that doesn’t give her the right to walk all over you the way she has. Frankly, I was going to ask you why you put up with it for so long.”

“You’re not mad that I called her a cow?”

“Well, that wouldn’t have been my first choice of insult for her, but no, I’m not mad at you. I’m furious with my baby sister, but that’s neither here nor there,” George explained. “Did she really throw a list of blokes at you?”

“More than once,” Harry said, finally relaxing enough to start drinking his Butterbeer.

“Ron doesn’t know about any of this, does he?”

“No. I couldn’t do that to him. He’s been holding out hope for a double wedding since we were in fifth year,” Harry said with a chuckle. “I guess I’ll have to explain it all to him now, though.”

“I think he’ll figure it out when Ginny’s wrath hits the Burrow,” George said with a shudder. “Let me thank you again for the use of the extra room upstairs. I definitely don’t want to be anywhere near the Burrow for the next few days.”

They laughed at the thought for a few moments and Harry finally let go of the worry that George would suddenly not want to be his friend anymore. It had only been two days, but he really enjoyed George’s company and realized that he would’ve missed him terribly. It was an odd thought, but Harry just let it go and let himself be roped back into the world of jokes, pranks, and profit margins.

They fell into a comfortable routine of days and evenings and before Harry knew it, George had been staying with him for nearly a week. Thankfully, Harry didn’t awake to George hovering in his bedroom again during that time. Members of the Order came and went and, soon, Harry and George developed a sort of betting game, trying to determine how many people would show up in a day, who they might be, and how many times they would say ‘congratulations’ to Harry. It seemed to really irk George that Harry managed to win every round. Ron and Hermione popped in and out, of course, but they seemed to be quite busy with each other and Harry never really minded when they would suddenly leave after only a short time. George was the one constant in his days and he was very grateful for him.

It was on their fifth evening together, sitting comfortably in the drawing room and sipping hot chocolate, when Harry suddenly realized how comfortable they actually had gotten. It was strange. He hadn’t ever felt so at ease with anyone in his life. Only Ron, and even then, it was different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what made it so different, but he really didn’t want to pick it apart anyway.

So, they sat, they sipped chocolate, and they discussed the inner workings of Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. Harry was lying across the couch with his feet propped up on George’s lap. George had made an idle comment about that when he first threw them up there, but never pushed them off, so Harry kept his comfortable position. When they once again fell into an easy silence, Harry decided that it would be a good time to bring up something that had been bothering him.

“Why have you stayed here all week?” he asked. “And don’t give me the same excuses about Fred and Angelina, okay? I know you and I know you could have found something to be getting on with, other than hanging around with me.” George eyed him for a moment before responding. He sighed heavily, put down his chocolate, and rubbed at his face wearily.

“You know how Mum is,” he said, as if this explained everything. When Harry was still looking puzzled, he finally continued. “She refused to leave you all alone in this big empty house with no one to look after you,” he explained, gesturing wildly. “She wouldn’t let any of us leave the house until we had worked out who would come and stay with you.”

Harry felt horrible. He’d been so happy getting to know George and he thought that it had been a splendid week. Now, it turned out that he’d been forced into it. It felt like a lead ball had dropped into his stomach.

“So you drew the short straw, did you?” Harry asked him, sitting up and putting his feet back on the floor.

“No, it wasn’t like that, Harry,” George assured him. “Everyone else has a lot going on, it’s true, but they all wanted to come and make sure that you were okay, too. Bill was going to work out a schedule with Charlie where they would take turns. Fred was going to bring Angelina around to keep you company. Ron and Hermione, well they’re a given, aren’t they? I just voted them all down. They all wanted to be here, but I wouldn’t let them.”

“Why would you do that?” Harry asked, feeling lighter, but still very confused.

“The last thing you needed was to have a revolving door full of Weasleys driving you around the bend. I volunteered to come and check up on you every day, make sure you were eating and all that. But then you invited me to stay and everything just seemed to work out,” he finished. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you all this before, but you just seemed so overwhelmed that first day and then we were having such a good time all week, that I just didn’t want to muck it up.”

“So you’re not here out of pity or on orders from your mum, then?”

“Of course not,” George laughed. “I’m here because this has been a bloody fantastic week and I’m really having a good time hanging around with you. Is that so hard to believe?”

“A bit,” Harry said with a shrug. “But I’m glad that you came and stayed. It has been a good week, and I’ve had a good time, too.” Harry couldn’t keep the goofy smile off his face and was too relieved with George’s answer to really try.

“Good then, get those feet back up here and let me finish my chocolate in peace.”

Harry laughed and swung his feet back onto George’s lap, feeling at ease and more right than he had in ages. They went back to their discussions of various Order members and of the news that they had brought from ‘the outside’ and Harry didn’t notice right away when George’s hand came to rest on his leg. In fact, he didn’t notice it at all until that hand started to trace random patterns up and down his leg. 

Harry was lying back on the couch, letting George’s voice pass over him as he told another amusing story about testing a product, and he had started to feel a bit drowsy. At first the slight tickling feeling from his hand felt nice – it was calming in his semi-drowsing state. But then his mind clicked into gear and he realized that as comforting as the feeling was, it seemed a little over-familiar for two blokes sitting together on a couch. He started a bit and sat up, moving his feet back to the floor again.

“Are you all right, Harry?” George asked, sounding concerned.

“I’m fine, really, I just realized that I’m getting pretty tired and I thought I’d go bed,” he said in a rush. “Good night.”

“Oh, okay,” George said, looking at him suspiciously. “I’ll just see you in the morning, then.”

Harry felt a little bad at the way he had rushed from the room, but didn’t see any way around it. He sat in his room for a long time that night, trying to sort out what had happened. He finally decided that he must have been reading too much into it and resolved to apologize to George first thing in the morning. He drifted off into sleep, feeling better and looking forward to the new day.

*****************************

_As the hands roamed over his body, he couldn’t help but fall back and revel in the sensations they were causing. Every nerve in his body felt alive and he felt himself arch up into them as they travelled across his chest. Lips, tongue, and teeth were teasing along his neck and he moaned at the intimate contact. Opening his eyes, he looked up into his lover’s and felt like he could drown in their crystal blue depths. Reaching up he brought their lips into contact and shivered as he felt their tongues dance together. Their bodies slid together and he moaned again, unable to keep his hips from thrusting against his partner’s. As they rocked together, he could hear his lover’s voice begging him for more and he thrilled every time he heard “Harry” fall from his lover’s lips. He was building towards his climax and he pulled his lover close to him, rocking them together until they were both crying out. They collapsed together, breathing heavily, and Harry looked back into those gorgeous blue eyes. A light kiss, a caress, and Harry knew that this was exactly where he belonged. As he fell back against the bed, he whispered his lover’s name before giving in completely to the wonderful sated feeling._

_“George.”_

*******************************

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, sweating and breathing heavily. ‘What in the bloody hell was that?’ he thought, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. That was the most realistic erotic dream he had ever had, which was doubly verified by the sticky pyjama bottoms currently drying against his body.

“Bloody hell,” he said to himself as he rubbed his face, trying to figure out what exactly was going on with his mind. Apparently, he was losing it, and in the most frustrating and embarrassing way possible. He had experienced wet dreams before, of course – he was a young healthy male and it was to be expected. But he had never had one featuring a bloke. ‘And why did it have to be George?’ he asked himself. He had to face George in the morning and the thought of looking at him across the breakfast table now was mortifying at best. Looking over at the clock, he saw that it was just half two in the morning, and groaned. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep right now. Sighing, he hauled himself out of bed and decided that the best course of action was to take a hot shower, get a warm milk, and hopefully fall back to sleep without anymore examples of how he was losing his mind. 

As he started the shower, he tried to figure out where that dream had come from. Remembering his reaction to George’s hand on his leg, he rationalized that it must have started there. He had overreacted then and, obviously, his over-active mind had continued in that vein while he was asleep. It was only natural, after all, to have a dream about someone with whom you spend so much time. And Harry was spending all his time with George lately. 

Harry rested his head against the wall and let the hot water run over his body. He tried to let it wash the remnants of his odd dream away, as well, but every time his mind wandered back to it, he felt a familiar stirring in his middle. Giving up, he shut off the water, dried off, and threw his dressing gown back on. He decided to forgo the warm milk and went straight for a mild sleep draught. 

As he walked back to his room, he heard another door open and froze in his tracks as George stepped out into the hallway. He looked up suddenly, surprised to see Harry up and moving about.

“Are you all right, Harry?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Harry said, feeling his face going red and cursing himself silently for it. “Just having a bit of trouble sleeping is all.” 

“Did you have another nightmare?” George inquired, sounding very concerned and stepping closer.

“Not at all,” Harry said nervously, trying to keep his eyes averted from George’s very muscular and very naked chest. “Just couldn’t sleep. Got a sleeping draught, so I’m fine now.”

George gazed at him for another minute before nodding and continuing on towards the bathroom. Harry let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and headed straight for his bedroom. He threw off the dressing gown, donned a new pair of pyjama bottoms, and sat back on the bed, preparing to take his potion and fall into a blissful, hopefully dreamless sleep. That was when George knocked on the door.

“Harry, are you sure you’re all right?” he asked through the closed door. Harry sighed and figured he might as well apologize for earlier right now, since they were both up. Maybe that would keep anymore odd, and possibly erotic, dreams at bay.

“George, come on in.”

George entered the room and eyed Harry warily. Then, he pulled Harry’s soiled pyjama bottoms from behind his back and presented them back to him. Harry felt his face redden all over again.

“Oops,” he said, “Guess I forgot to pick those up.”

“What’s going on, Harry?”

“Listen, earlier tonight, I was a bit of an arse,” he said and continued when he saw the confused look on George’s face. “I wanted to apologize for making you uncomfortable when I suddenly jumped up and ran off to bed,” he said. “The thing is, I felt your hand on my leg and I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Harry thought he had seen a flicker of something cross over George’s face, but it was gone before he could figure it out. George flashed him a cheeky grin and pointed at the dirty pyjamas he had returned.

“And is there an equally interesting explanation for those?” he asked.

“Not really,” Harry replied, feeling his face flush again. 

“Harry, if you want to talk about something,” George started, but Harry quickly interrupted him.

“No, everything is fine. I’m sorry to keep you up. I’m just going to take this potion now and try to get some sleep,” he said hurriedly. 

“All right,” George said, flashing the grin again. “But if you need anything, I’m right next door.”

George left the room, looking back over his shoulder at Harry before closing the door. Harry was determined to not think about anything else, so he quickly downed the potion and fell blissfully into a deep, and thankfully dreamless, sleep.


	4. Chapter Three

**But What Comes Next?**

_A/N: So Sorry for the wait!!! I had a computer issue. I'm back online, so here's the next chapter! Thanks for your patience!_

**Chapter Three**

When Harry blearily opened his eyes that morning, he instantly regretted taking a whole dose of the sleeping potion. His eyes felt gummy, his arms and legs felt wobbly, and his brain felt fuzzy. He stumbled downstairs, searching for a strong cup of coffee. To his sleepy delight, he found a whole pot, courtesy of George.

“I thought you might be needing that this morning,” George said with a grin. “I give you credit, though. I didn’t expect to see you remotely conscious for another two hours or so.”

“I don’t think I can be classified as ‘remotely conscious’ yet. I’ll let you know when I get there,” Harry said through a yawn.

“Well, have a couple of cups of that, and you’ll be okay. I’ve got a proposition for you,” he said mysteriously.

“I’m not testing any products for you, George. I may not be fully conscious yet, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost my mind entirely, thank you very much.”

“Ah, you’re still funny, even when drugged. That may come in handy someday,” George snickered. “But seriously, Fred owled this morning and we’re reopening the shop tomorrow. I’ve got to go in and start going through the stock room to make room for the new line that we’re starting. I though you might like to get out of the house for a bit and come help out. You know, get to see the inner workings and all that.”

Harry sipped at his coffee for a moment, considering the offer. “Do you think it’s safe for me to attempt a breakout?” he asked.

“We’ll Floo straight there and, since the store’s not open to the public yet, you won’t be seen; so I figure it’s pretty safe,” he replied.

“Sounds good,” Harry said, starting to feel a bit more human after his first cup of coffee. “Just make sure you’ve got a steady supply of coffee for me, and it’s a deal.”

After a quick fry-up for breakfast, another two cups of coffee, and a trip to the bathroom, they were on their way to Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes. Harry couldn’t believe how good it felt to be away from Grimmauld Place, and felt his energy return full force.

True to his word, George put Harry straight to work in the storeroom, sorting through some of the older products. He saw Fred briefly, but he didn’t stay for long, taking Angelina to the office to work on the development of their newest product. Harry personally believed that it wasn’t really products that they were developing, but he wasn’t about to comment on it.

Much to Harry’s relief, George didn’t bring up the awkwardness of the previous night and Harry wasn’t about to broach the subject, either. So, as the day went on, Harry became more relaxed and really enjoyed the work. George chatted up an endless stream of descriptions of the products, what they did, and how they were developed, and Harry enjoyed every moment. He couldn’t help but think that he might really like working in this sort of environment, once all the chaos died down a bit. He had to admit that George was truly in his element here. He really seemed to love talking about the business and the products and Harry was caught up by his enthusiasm.

It was tough work, lifting boxes and sorting through endless piles of products. They couldn’t use magic for most of it, because of the unstable nature of some of the items in the storeroom. So, they worked together in close quarters, carefully walking around each other as well as the large piles of sorted merchandise. They’d managed to avoid any major mishaps for most of the day, with just a few close calls of precariously stacked boxes. As they were finishing up, Harry was reaching to place one of the last boxes up on a high shelf when George accidentally bumped into him. He lost his balance and felt the box start to tip over, directly over his head. Luckily, even though Harry’s Seeker reflexes failed him at that moment, George pulled him to the side and out of harm’s way.

There was a rather fantastic explosion when the box hit the floor and Harry had barely a second to be thankful that it hadn’t been his head. Not only had George pulled him out of the way, but he had also shielded Harry from the worst of the blast. Harry could only guess how much his back was stinging right about now.

“Merlin, that was close,” Harry said, still breathing heavily from the shock. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” George said with a bit of a grimace. “I’ve definitely had worse around here, but I can tell I’ll be a bit bruised by morning. Nothing to worry about, though. Are you okay?” he asked, looking very worried.

Harry nodded. “Thanks for that. I guess that if I’m going to help out around here, I’ve got to be a little quicker on my feet.” 

Even though the scare was over, neither of them had moved. Harry was pressed up against the wall with George still standing protectively in front of him. George was still looking at him with concern and Harry’s breath caught a bit by the intensity of his look. Before he could comment on it, however, George stepped even closer against him, pressing their bodies together. Then, in the blink of an eye, Harry felt George’s lips against his own. 

Harry did the only thing he could – he froze in alarm, his mind racing. The kiss only lasted a couple of seconds and when George pulled away, he must have seen the panic on his face, because he suddenly backed away. He looked quite flustered and was trying to speak, but didn’t seem to be able to. Seizing on his first instinct, Harry started backing out of the storeroom as quickly as possible.

“I have to go,” he said hurriedly, unable to think of anything but rushing back to the Floo and getting to Grimmauld Place.

“Harry,” George started, sounding a bit panicked himself. “Wait, please.”

“I can’t, I have to go,” Harry repeated. He could hear George calling after him, but in an instant he had made it to the Floo and was unceremoniously dumped onto the kitchen floor of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. 

He stayed sitting on the floor for a while, still too shocked to really understand what had happened. He kept expecting George to come bursting through after him, but he didn’t. After a bit, he managed to pull himself to his feet and he walked upstairs in a daze, his only thought being that he could use a shower and a good night’s sleep. 

He cleaned himself up, donned a pair of pyjamas, and crawled into his bed. When he looked at the clock, he was stunned to see that it wasn’t even quite seven o’clock yet, but he lacked the strength to get back up. He stayed there, his thoughts rolling around in his head, trying to sort out everything that had been going on. 

Sure, they had been getting on remarkably well, but he couldn’t imagine that that was enough to bring on this strange development. There was that episode last night with George’s hand on his leg, but he had already decided that he had just overreacted to that. Didn’t he? Harry really didn’t know what to think. 

His dream last night had certainly unsettled him, but the more he thought about it, he wasn’t so sure that it wasn’t the dream itself, but his reaction to it, that was more unsettling. He knew that he was enjoying his time with George – more than he had ever imagined. They had really connected and he felt more comfortable with him than he had with anyone else. 

He replayed their week together and started noticing things that he had overlooked previously. There was the way they could sit so closely together on the couch without feeling awkward. He hadn’t thought about that, or the stray touches that would pass between them, before now. He’d never been very comfortable with a lot of personal contact and usually liked to keep quite a bit of personal space for himself. That hadn’t happened with George. Right from the beginning, he had been remarkably relaxed around the other man. 

Looking back over some of their conversations, he remembered how much banter had passed between them. He suddenly realized that a lot of that banter would almost have been considered flirting, if it had been with a girl. He held his head and moaned at the realization. He had been flirting with George all week and hadn’t been aware of it. Then he had a really frightening thought. What if other people found out? What would they think of him? Deciding that this train of thought wasn’t helping him in any way, shape, or form, he hauled himself out of bed and headed back to the kitchen to grab a Butterbeer.

He spent the majority of the night wandering back and forth between the kitchen and the drawing room, trying not to think about what had happened and what everyone must think of him by now. He felt horrible about what he had done. He really liked George, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to be with him the way he obviously wanted. Even if he was mildly attracted – rather, that he could appreciate how attractive George was – he just wasn’t interested in blokes that way. He didn’t even know how two men would go about acting in that manner. Sure, his dream had been… intriguing, but that was no basis for rushing into something so risky and different. Harry’s head was starting to ache. He decided that Charlie’s idea to pick up and start travelling was starting to sound like a really good idea. Then again, starting a new career in Canada under an assumed identity sounded reasonable just then, too.

It was very early the next morning when he finally fell into a fitful doze on the drawing room couch. He was plagued with guilty dreams where not only did George kiss him, but he kissed back. Someone calling his name from the kitchen woke him from the troubling dreams. Jumping up, he ran downstairs, expecting to see George, and was very surprised when Ron was standing in front of the Floo.

“Ron, what are you doing here?” he asked, trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep and the mild disappointment that it wasn’t George.

“I came to see how you were,” he said simply. “You ran out of the shop pretty fast, from what I heard, and since no one had heard from you, I was a bit worried.”

Harry sank heavily into a chair, dropping his head against the table. “So you’ve heard, have you?”

“Well, George was in a right state when he showed up at the Burrow last night. Said he’d done something really stupid and that he’d ruined everything,” Ron explained, joining Harry at the table. “It took Hermione and me forever to talk him down and get him to start making sense.”

“Hermione was there, too?” Harry groaned. Things were getting worse by the second.

“Listen, Harry, I think I need to explain some things to you, okay?”

Harry reluctantly rolled his head to the side so that he could see Ron’s face. “You don’t need to explain to me how horrible I am. I’ve already figured that one out.”

Ron blinked at him in surprise. “What on earth are you talking about?” he asked. When Harry refused to answer, Ron continued. “No one thinks you’re horrible, Harry. In fact, Hermione thinks that maybe you just need to understand some things.”

Harry looked back up at him, confused as to where this conversation was going.

“Let me ask you a few questions, and I want you to answer honestly, okay? There’s no need to be embarrassed or worried about anything,” he said and Harry reluctantly nodded.

“How did you feel spending time with George this week?” he asked.

Harry thought for a moment and replied, “It was great. We had a really good time and we got on really well. I felt really comfortable with him right from the beginning.”

“Did you think that was odd at all?”

“A couple of times it struck me as strange, but I didn’t really dwell on it,” Harry said, sitting more upright in his chair.

“One thing I know from experience with you, Harry, is that it takes you a long time to warm up to someone. You don’t let people in right away – and you’re always uncomfortable with physical closeness. Was it like that with George?” he prodded.

“No, it wasn’t,” Harry answered. “And I’ve already thought about all of that. All it means is that we’ve become friends.”

“Does it really? Would you be comfortable with me or Hermione in that way?” he prodded. “When George kissed you last night,” he said, and Harry squirmed in his seat, “what did you feel?”

“I was completely panicked,” he exclaimed. “Wouldn’t you be? One minute we were working, then he pulls me out of the way of a falling box and then he’s kissing me. How would you act if some bloke just up and kissed you out of nowhere?”

“But was it out of nowhere? And you didn’t really answer me. Obviously you were panicked, but were you disgusted? Revolted? What did you feel?”

“Are you channelling Hermione or something?” Harry asked irritably.

“Just think about it, Harry. What were you really feeling when he kissed you?”

Harry put his face back into his hands and tried to think back to the moment when George’s lips pressed against his. He thought about the moments leading up to it – the look in George’s eyes, the way it felt when he pressed up against him. He was panicked, but that’s not all. 

“I was surprised, but it wasn’t awful,” Harry admitted in a soft voice. “I liked the way he looked at me before it happened.” Harry suddenly looked up in alarm. “Oh gods, I’m a bloody pouf, aren’t I?”

Ron just sat back and smiled for a moment, which made Harry all the more upset. “What are you smiling about? This is horrible! Just wait until the papers get a hold of this. ‘Harry Potter, the boy who wants to shag other boys’. Why are you laughing?” he demanded.

“Okay, Harry. This is where some explanations come in. Frankly, last night when George was telling me about everything that had happened, I didn’t understand. I just figured that maybe you weren’t interested in him and overreacted. Let’s face it, you don’t have the best track record when it comes to feelings and relationships,” he said with a smirk.

“Oh, and you do?” Harry responded.

“I’m not the issue here, you are,” Ron said with a grin. “Like I said, I just figured you weren’t interested. Hermione, though, thought that you were, and that’s what the problem was.”

“It’s a rather big problem,” Harry moaned.

“Stop interrupting,” Ron admonished. “George and I couldn’t understand why it would be a problem and why you would react like that, if you were interested. She had to explain to us how Muggles think in regards to relationships. For them, you’re pretty much either gay or straight, right?” Harry nodded. “And she explained that a lot of Muggles think it’s wrong for two men or for two women to be together in a relationship – I imagine your so-called family fell into that category, right?” Harry nodded. “And that’s the stupidest thing I’d ever heard in my entire life.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“What does it matter who the people are, if they care about each other and want to be together? You see, in the wizarding world, we don’t really label it. Plenty of witches and wizards have relationships with both sexes, and some only have relationships with one or the other. No one cares. It's a complete non-issue here,” he explained. “You were raised with the belief that one way is better than the other. It’s just like the pureblood versus Muggle-born nonsense that we’ve been fighting against for years. It doesn’t matter.”

Harry thought about everything that Ron was saying and felt a little relieved that, if he were gay, it wouldn’t be just another thing to make him stand out. He still wasn’t sure what his feelings were, or if he would be comfortable in that sort of relationship, but at least he wouldn’t be considered a pariah. But then his stomach dropped.

“George hates me, doesn’t he?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Ron reassured him. “He just didn’t want to come bursting over here, when he wasn’t sure how you’d be feeling or what you’d be thinking now.”

“I’m not even sure what I’m thinking and feeling,” Harry said dejectedly.

“Well, think about it for a while. Think about how George makes you feel and how things are when you’re together,” he advised. “You don’t have to make any decisions today, or even in the near future. Like you said last week, you suddenly have your whole life in front of you and you need to think about what you want.”

“Will you tell George that I’m sorry I reacted so badly?” Harry asked.

“Of course. And don’t worry; he’s not mad at you. He’s just really concerned that he’s gone and mucked up the friendship you two were making. He really cares about you a lot, you know.”

Harry nodded and then thanked Ron again before he left back through the Floo. Harry had a lot of thinking to do and he definitely needed to try and catch up on some sleep. Trudging back upstairs to his room, he fell into his bed and let sleep claim him, hoping that in a few hours he’d be able to tackle this situation with a clear head.

**************************

It was several hours later that Harry managed to pull himself back out of bed. From the light outside and the incessant rumbling of his stomach, he guessed it was early afternoon. He quickly dressed and headed down to the kitchen to make a sandwich.

He hardly tasted his food as he thought over everything that had happened. On the one hand, he missed George’s company already and hoped that they could straighten everything out. He had really come to depend on the other man, and that alone made him wonder about the other factors at play. 

It was obvious that George had some sort of feelings for him – he wasn’t the type of person to just up and arbitrarily start snogging people without reason. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that. After talking to Ron that morning, he realized that he wasn’t so much adverse to the idea, but the thought of being with a bloke… that way… was so foreign, that he didn’t know if it would ever work.

Harry closed his eyes and thought back to the dream he had had about George and about the way he looked just before he kissed him in the storeroom. It was all so unexpected, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, that had to have been the most erotic wet dream he’d ever experienced. Should it really matter whether it was a male or a female that made him feel like that?

His thoughts twisted around and around in his head and after an hour he was no closer to figuring out what he wanted. Finally, he gave up and realized that he had to talk to George – in person – before he could really come to terms with everything that had changed. Feeling better now that he had resolved to do something, he ran back to his room, gathered some parchment and a quill, and set about writing a letter to owl over to George at the shop.

It was much harder than he had thought it would be to put his thoughts onto paper. Sitting there at the small desk in his room, he went through sheet after sheet of parchment before finally coming up with something that sounded acceptable. 

_George,_

_I’m so sorry for the way I’ve acted recently and I’d like to apologize to you, if you’d let me. I was hoping that you would come by the house so that we could speak in person. I think there’s a lot that we need to talk about, and I’d like to have the chance. If you’d like, you could come by for some dinner around six this evening. If you don’t want to come, I’ll understand._

_I hope to see you this evening._

_~Harry_

He quickly rolled up the parchment, gave it to Hedwig, and sent her off before he could lose his nerve. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was nearing three o’clock. He had three hours before George would come, if he was coming at all. 

Not knowing what to do with himself, he went to the drawing room and tried to immerse himself in a book. It worked for about fifteen minutes before he started fidgeting. Falling back on old habits, he figured a good round of cleaning would at least keep his mind off the time. Over the next two hours, he scrubbed down the kitchen so much that even Mrs. Weasley would have been impressed. When he could find nothing else to wipe, scrub, or scour, he went to clean up and change his clothes. 

As the minutes ticked closer to six o’clock, he began to get very nervous. He suddenly realized that he had spent so much time worrying over whether or not George would actually show up, that he hadn’t even considered what it was that he wanted to say to him if he did. Deciding that a planned speech would probably only get completely mucked up, he figured that he could just wing it, if he got the opportunity. 

Since Mrs. Weasley had been steadily preparing and sending food over to Grimmauld Place all week, there wasn’t much for Harry to do to get dinner ready. He placed a re-warming charm on some lamb stew and sliced some crusty bread while he waited for the clock to strike six. 

As he heard the first tolls, he froze. His palms were sweating and he suddenly felt like his limbs were too big for his body. He couldn’t stand still, but pacing was making him even more nervous. He tried to keep his eyes away from the clock and the fireplace, remembering the old Muggle adage that a watched pot never boils. This was much more difficult than he could have imagined. 

He set the table for two, but then thought that it was a bit presumptuous to assume that George was coming, so he put the dishes away. He moved the pot of stew from the counter to the table, and then back to the counter. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was now quarter past the hour, and he tried not to feel too disappointed. After all, maybe George was just late. Maybe the store was busy. Maybe it took Hedwig longer than usual to deliver the letter. 

Harry wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers and decided that he was being ridiculous about the whole situation. This was only a dinner between friends to work out some misunderstandings. He wasn’t having the Minister of Magic over, for Merlin’s sake. He reset the table for two and moved the stew and bread back over to the table. Sitting down, he tried to calm himself using some of his old Occlumency exercises. If George did show, it wouldn’t do either of them any good if Harry was so worked up that he couldn’t form a coherent thought.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw that it was now half six, and he couldn’t help but feel his disappointment growing. Sighing deeply, he thought that he probably deserved this. He was remarkably rude, blatantly ignorant, and he had acted in an emotionally retarded manner. Any normal person would never have run out the way he had and he couldn’t blame George for not wanting to speak to him about it. 

After waiting another fifteen minutes, just to be sure, Harry packed up all the food again – he didn’t feel much like eating anymore – grabbed a Butterbeer and retreated from the kitchen back to the drawing room. After a few minutes of sitting and stewing in his own self-pity, Harry decided that it might be a good idea to try and put all his thoughts down on paper. That way, if he ever did get the opportunity to speak to George about all this, he would at least have somewhere to start.

He banished the empty Butterbeer bottle to the garbage and was just heading back to his bedroom when he heard something coming from the kitchen. His heart started beating faster with hope as he headed downstairs. Walking through the door, he saw George picking up a chair that he must have knocked over when he came through the Floo. 

“Hi,” Harry said hesitantly. George spun around and looked at Harry, blushing a bit as he knocked the chair over again. 

“Hey there,” he answered, chewing his bottom lip.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” George said, looking down at the floor. “I don’t really have an excuse, I was just nervous and I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to you.”

“Me too,” Harry said, smiling. Somehow it was a little easier knowing that he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. George looked at him and smiled back. “I’ve got some stew ready, if you’re hungry.”

“Not really, but thanks,” George replied. 

“Thanks for coming,” Harry said, stepping a little closer. 

George smiled again and, somehow, Harry knew that everything would be all right – no matter what the evening brought.


	5. Chapter Four

****

But What Comes Next?

_A/N: Decided not to wait until tomorrow, so here's it is... This is the last chapter in this fic… Not sure if there’ll be a sequel or not, but I’m open to any ideas! Thanks, as always, to knightmare for all her hard work. And thanks to everyone for the reviews and support!_

**Chapter Four**

After a few awkward and nervous minutes, they decided to head up to the drawing room to at least try to be comfortable while they talked. Once they were settled, sitting on opposite sides of the large couch, it seemed as though neither was able to start the conversation. There was a lot of throat clearing and nervous smiles for another couple of minutes. Finally, Harry couldn’t take it anymore and decided to just jump in.

“George,” he said, just as George piped in and said, “Harry.” They both laughed nervously and Harry gestured for George to go first. 

“In your owl you said you wanted to apologize. Why?” he asked.

Harry blinked a couple of times, confused by the question. “Because I was a git and you deserve an apology,” he said simply.

“No, I mean, why do you think you need to? You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I owe you an apology. I never should have presumed anything and I definitely shouldn’t have cornered you like that,” he said, staring intently at the old carpet under his feet. “I was surprised that you wanted to talk. I figured I’d ruined any chance at all of us being friends after the mess I made of things.”

Harry was stunned. After everything he had done, here was George humbly apologizing for acting on his feelings. Harry was the one that acted horribly. He wasn’t quite sure what to say after that, so he just sat for a moment and waited for George to raise his head and look at him again.

“I guess we both feel bad for how we acted,” Harry said softly. “I am sorry, though, for running out like that. I should have talked to you about it then, but I was just surprised and I panicked. You’d think I’d just been told that I had to take Double Advanced Potions with Snape the way I tore out of there,” he said laughing and George smiled.

“I’m sorry, too,” George said. “It never even occurred to me that you’d be so surprised. I talked to Ron and Hermione last night and they explained a few things to me about what it was like for you growing up with Muggles. I guess it was pretty stupid of me to not realize you might think about those things differently.”

“Ron came here this morning and gave me quite a talking to, as well,” Harry said, shaking his head and smiling. “Who would have thought that he’d be so insightful? But, I guess I’m to blame for not realizing the differences, too. He gave me a few things to think about and that’s what I’ve been doing all day.”

“And?” George asked hesitantly.

Harry took a deep breath, looked at George’s nervous expression and decided to lay everything on the line. “I’ve been thinking about the week we spent together and how much fun it was and how comfortable I am being around you. That’s something that’s pretty new to me. I’ve always been a bit… tentative when it comes to opening up to people and getting close to them. Usually, I hate having to be physically close to people. I’m just not used to a lot of contact like that, since I’ve never really had it.” Harry stopped for a moment, hoping that he wasn’t sounding like a complete prat. One look at George, though, prompted him to keep going. After all, he had nothing to lose by throwing this all out there.

“I realized that it hadn’t been an issue at all this week. The only times I panicked were when I realized that you being close to me _wasn’t_ bothering me,” he frowned as he tried to think through what he had just said. “I guess that doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

“Yes, it does,” George said, urging him to continue.

“I’ve always been rubbish at feelings and relationships and all that,” Harry admitted with a shrug. “I suppose that’s pretty obvious. But I think the reason I freaked out so much is because I was so hung up on what I was always told growing up. My Uncle Vernon was horribly prejudiced against people who were gay and I never shared his belief, but I did think it was odd. I mean, I never really knew anyone who was, so it wasn’t something I had any experience with. Then Ron explained how wizards looked at these things and it made so much more sense.”

Harry sat back for a moment and gave George a few moments to take in everything that he had said. They stayed sitting on opposite sides of the couch, neither saying anything for a time. While George studied what must have been a very interesting spot on the carpet, Harry studied him.

He really was a good-looking man. They were about the same height, but while Harry had always been lean and compact, George was quite broad and muscular. His hair was a much lighter shade of red than Ron’s or Ginny’s, and he had a lighter spattering of freckles as well. As he continued to watch George, he looked up and met his eyes and Harry’s breath caught, just for a moment. There was so much there in that gaze, and Harry’s stomach did a bit of a flip-flop. He moved a little closer to George, not taking his eyes away.

“How do you feel about me?” Harry asked.

George swallowed audibly, but didn’t avert his gaze. “I like you, Harry. I’ve always thought you were great, a lot of fun and all that, but I never really got to know you before this week. You were always good looking – a bit scrawny, maybe,” he joked. “But I know now that there’s so much more to you than what most people see. I want to know more and spend more time with you.” He stopped and Harry saw him lift his hand, as if he wanted to reach out, but thought better of it. 

Harry moved closer again and reached out his own hand to take George’s. His heart was thrumming madly and there was a part of his brain that was in a panic at what he was doing, but it was only a small part. Overall, he didn’t feel odd at all holding George’s hand and he relaxed a bit at the realization.

“I feel the same way about you,” Harry said in a soft voice, “and I think I want more. I don’t want to hurt you, or disappoint you, though. Would you… I mean, would it be all right if I kissed you? I want to see what it’s like when I’m not surprised, now that I’ve had time to think about everything.” Harry said all this in a rush and he could feel his face heating. “If that’s okay.”

George looked both dumbfounded and ecstatic at the same time. “Are you sure, Harry? I mean, I’d love it if you did, but I don’t want you to do anything that you’re not sure about, or that might make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure, just bear with me, okay?” he said with a nervous smile. 

He moved so that they were sitting very close, their legs brushing against each other. Harry’s hand was still holding George’s and he raised the other to brush lightly at his cheek. George’s breath caught a bit and he closed his eyes. Harry saw his tongue dart out quickly to wet his lips and Harry automatically did the same. He was so nervous, but suddenly he realized that he didn’t have to be. This was George – the one who told him outrageous stories and made him laugh; the one who’s face lit up talking about the latest products at the shop; the one who stayed protectively by his bedside to keep the nightmares away. This felt right and Harry closed the distance and lightly pressed their lips together. 

Harry heard George take a sharp breath, but he didn’t make any moves. He let Harry do the work and set the pace. He deepened the kiss a bit, but still kept it mostly chaste, getting used to the strange sensations. George’s lips were thin and a bit chapped, and his skin was beginning to feel a bit rough with a new growth of bristles. None of that mattered to Harry, though, as he felt George’s breath against his face and the comforting squeeze of his hand. 

He pulled back for a moment and rested his forehead against George’s. When his eyes opened, he looked into Harry’s with a direct and questioning gaze.

“Are you okay?” George asked.

“Yes,” Harry replied. “I think I am,” and he closed in again to renew the kiss. George cupped the back of his head and Harry let himself be pulled closer. He wanted more and he ran his tongue along George’s bottom lip, shivering in response to the soft moan it elicited. George’s mouth opened and Harry let his tongue explore. Soon, he felt George’s tongue answering and they slowly met and danced. It was the best kiss Harry had ever experienced and he felt light-headed from the sensations. They finally parted again, glassy eyed and breathing heavily. 

“Thank you,” Harry murmured.

“For what?” George asked softly.

“For giving me another chance.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you for that?” George asked with a grin. Harry laughed and let himself be drawn into an embrace. They sat comfortably for a while, until a growl erupted from Harry’s stomach.

“I guess it’s about time for that dinner now,” he said with a blush. George laughed and they headed downstairs to finally enjoy the stew and bread that Harry had set out earlier. They ate and talked and enjoyed small touches with each other throughout it all. 

After dinner, they returned to the drawing room, lit a fire, and sat snuggled together on the couch. Harry had never been more at ease than he was at that moment. It was brilliant to be curled up against George, sharing his warmth and talking about nothing. It wasn’t until they heard the clock strike midnight that they realized how late it had gotten.

George sighed heavily and disentangled himself from Harry. “I guess I should get back to the Burrow,” he said, sounding disappointed.

“What? You’re not staying here?” Harry asked, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

George blushed, and said, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Don’t you think we should take things a little slower?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to blush. “I meant here in the house, in your room,” he said sheepishly. “You don’t have to go back to the Burrow, unless you really want to.”

“Oh,” George said, smiling. “I didn’t think you’d want me here all the time now… well, now that things are different.”

“Things aren’t really different,” Harry said. “Just more defined.”

“Okay, if you’re sure, then I’ll stay.”

Harry smiled and kissed him lightly. They decided to turn in for the night, and George kissed him again outside his bedroom door. Harry got ready for bed, put out the light, and fell asleep thinking of how wonderfully the day had ended.

******************************

_The room was very dark and it had a strong odour of decay. Harry tried to look around at his surroundings, but he was bound tightly against the wall and his movements were very limited. He struggled against his bonds, needing to get to the redheaded captive who was slumped on the floor, blood trickling from the back of his head. Suddenly, the chains dropped away from his arms and he fell to the ground. He felt weak and, for a moment, he couldn’t make himself move. Looking over at the body on the floor, he was shocked when he heard a ragged breath and then saw a slight movement from one of his hands. Finding the strength, he quickly crawled to the person on the floor, his heart thudding in panic at what he would find. As he rolled the bruised and beaten person over, he felt a sob tear its way out of his throat._

_It was George._

_Harry screamed at him, begging him to hold on, to open his eyes. His body was so cold and his breathing was so shallow, that Harry knew there wasn’t much that he could do. He cried out again and he pulled George’s body against his, trying to give him some of his warmth and some comfort – hoping that he could feel that he wasn’t alone. He sobbed his apologies over and over, hating that there was nothing that he could do, knowing that it was his fault. That was when George stopped breathing and what little tension that was left in his body seeped away._

_Harry screamed until his voice was hoarse, clutching his body, not wanting to put it back on the cold, damp floor. Just then he heard a voice calling to him. It sounded like George, but that was impossible. He looked down at George's body and was shocked to see that it was gone. He called out, trying to find him, but he was still locked alone in this room. He heard the voice again, pleading with him to wake up. Wake up? He felt dizzy and disoriented, not knowing what was going on and what to believe. He closed his eyes and felt warmth seeping into his bones. He felt strong arms around him and he could hear George calling him._

_He opened his eyes._

******************************

Harry was damp with sweat, but strong arms surrounded him and he could feel soft kisses being trailed across his head, around his face. He pulled back a little and was face to face with George. He sobbed in relief, grabbing him and holding onto him. The dream had seemed so real and he suddenly realized that he was crying as he held on. He pulled back and wiped the tears away as quickly as he could. He couldn’t help but reach out and touch George, needing to reassure himself that this was real and that the nightmare was over.

“Harry, are you all right? You scared the hell out of me,” George said, pulling him into another embrace.

“I’m fine now. You’re all right, aren’t you?” he asked quickly, checking him over again.

“Of course,” George said with a chuckle. “That must have been some nightmare. Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t ever want to think about that dream again. Instead, he crawled back into George’s embrace and waited for his frantic heartbeat to calm. George ran his hands over his back and whispered soothingly, helping to take away the last of the fear from the nightmare. 

“Do you think you could sleep again?” he asked Harry.

“Will you stay here?” Harry blurted out, grabbing George’s hand. He wasn’t ready to let him out of his sight yet.

George seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before nodding and slipping into the bed beside him. Harry let out the breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding and turned so that he was facing George. He reached out to feel the surety of his body one more time and then finally let himself relax. They stayed facing each other, neither one willing to close their eyes and drift off to sleep just yet. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispered. “I’m sorry I woke you, but I’m really glad you were here to help me just then.”

George smiled in return and leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead. Harry snuggled a bit closer, taking more comfort from their combined warmth. He let his hand trail its way over George’s bare chest, thankful that the bruising and blood that was so vivid in his dream was no where to be found in reality. His thumb passed over George’s nipple and he felt the other man tense for a moment and heard his breath catch. He did it again and felt the small nub harden under his touch. The atmosphere of the room suddenly became much heavier and there was something expectant in the silence of it.

Harry looked up into George’s face and saw that his eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. He looked amazing like that, Harry thought briefly. He continued to tease George’s nipple for a minute and then leaned up to place a light kiss against the corner of his mouth. He smiled when he heard George’s breath catch again. He began trailing kisses down his jaw and felt George’s arms tighten around him. When he kissed against the pulse point in his neck, George made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a growl in the back of his throat that somehow travelled directly to Harry’s groin. He pulled back and they looked at each other for a moment, their breathing coming faster than normal. 

George whispered, “Harry,” very softly, almost pleadingly. Harry moved in and kissed him. 

He could feel George’s hands travelling over his chest, across his back, burning their touch into him. He’d never felt so much at once, and he wanted so much more. He moaned into George’s mouth and was quickly rolled onto his back, feeling George’s weight settle on top of him. 

“Tell me to stop, Harry,” George said, his voice deep and rough. 

“Don’t stop,” Harry replied and reached up to pull George more fully down on top of him. 

They kissed, and touched, and moved against each other and Harry gasped when he felt George’s hardness slide against his own with only the thin material of their pyjamas keeping them apart. He’d never felt anything like that explosion of sensation before, so he arched his hips up again, trying to recreate it. George groaned and thrust back. Harry saw stars.

They started moving against each other, desperate to build up enough friction to ease the throbbing they both felt from arousal. The kisses became a bit more frantic and Harry was sure he was making ridiculous noises. He didn’t care. Nothing mattered but the amazing feeling of having George move against him, and kiss him, and make him feel. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“Please, George,” Harry moaned, not even knowing what he was pleading for. But somehow, George understood. He slid his hand down and soon Harry felt it pressing hard against his cock. He curled his hand around it, through the pyjamas and started stroking it with a steady pressure. Harry cried out at the new sensation and thrust against his movements. He felt his climax building quickly and tried to warn George, but couldn’t. He shouted out his release and George claimed his mouth again, slowing his movements until Harry had finished. 

Harry lay back, shaking from the force of his climax and unable to do anything but be still. George trailed kisses across his face, whispering endearments. When Harry had finally come back to himself, he rolled to his side and kissed George fully.

“That was amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

George chuckled. “You don’t need to thank me, Harry.” They were quiet for a moment before George asked, “You’ve never done anything like that before, have you?”

“Was it that obvious?” Harry asked sheepishly.

“No, nothing like that,” George said and chuckled again. “Just that I know you haven’t had much experience before and I was surprised, that’s all.”

“I’ve only ever done some kissing and some light petting. That was incredible. I’m glad it was with you,” Harry said, and snuggled a bit closer. That was when he realized that George was still in a bit of a state.

“George,” he whispered, “can I?” he asked, indicating the large bulge still evident in his thin pyjama pants.

“You don’t have to, Harry,” he answered. “We were supposed to be taking things slow and I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

Without saying anything more, Harry slipped his hand down and pressed it against George’s hardness, smiling at the shuddering breath he got in response. He was surprised to find that he wasn’t nervous at all about this, even though he had never touched another man this way before. Feeling curious and gratified by the noises that George was making, he slipped his hand inside the waistband of his pants, pushing them down to release his swollen cock. He teased back the foreskin and spread the wetness around the tip with his thumb. It wasn’t too different than when he was working himself and he felt emboldened by the moans escaping from George’s mouth. He slowly started pumping, wanting to hear him come. It didn’t take long and soon George was calling his name as the hot liquid spurted out over Harry’s hand. It was brilliant. He’d never seen anything as gorgeous as George when he was crying out. He laid his head down on George’s chest, listening to the rapid thumping of his heart, as he slowly recovered. 

George borrowed Harry’s wand and cast a quick cleansing spell on them both and then folded Harry into his arms. As he felt sleep slowly claiming him, Harry realized that no matter what may come next, he wouldn’t be alone. Smiling as he snuggled into George’s embrace, he let sleep claim him.

_The end... for now._


End file.
